The Knock Came Before I Could Dial 911

“Show me your ID.”

He laughed once, like I was being cute.

“Ma’am, it’s cold out here.”

We were in an indoor hallway. The heat was too high, always too high, because Mr. Alvarez downstairs kept complaining about his knees.

My mouth went dry.

“Slide it under the door.”

“The badge won’t fit.”

“Then hold it to the peephole.”

He shifted. The manila folder moved continue reading …